


Made to love you

by OrigamiLove



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrigamiLove/pseuds/OrigamiLove
Summary: Only Quentin could look at him like he was a wounded puppy and get away with it. Sickening, really. Eliot had decided he’d gone soft in his old age. He half-listened to the other’s talk while he stared down at the drink in hand. If he looked back at Quentin for a moment longer he might have done something stupid.Eliot has been getting flashbacks of another life he never quite lived. Only this time, it was some future life without Quentin. Everyone else is off rallying to save the world again, but Eliot is a little too caught up in his own head.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Made to love you

Staring off into space, Eliot was entirely lost in the world of his mind. As if he hadn’t spent far too long in there already. His happy place still felt safe, even now, after everything.

He didn’t want to be in a reality where his best friends died, or to look back in the mirror and see the monster staring back.

Its eyes cold and so very his.

“El? You uh... you doing alright over there?”

The voice was distant and floated in his thoughts. His eyes turned to look back at those familiar honey browns that had once been writing all his most traumatic memories on the blackboard. 

Though the face of Quentin contorted with concern, Eliot knew his own imagination trying to characterize his favourite person could never have been so beautifully complex. Snapping back to the real world and entirely unaffected by the other eyes on him.

“Hm? Oh yeah, totally.”

He finally hummed out nonchalantly, raising the glass from his lap to show he was perfectly content to just go along with their newest plans and wild ideas. The others got the hint and continued. He simply stared back into the eyes that never changed.

Only Quentin could look at him like he was a wounded puppy and get away with it. Sickening, really. Eliot had decided he’d gone soft in his old age. He half-listened to the other’s talk while he stared down at the drink in hand. If he looked back at Quentin for a moment longer he might have done something stupid.

Eliot tried to keep out of his own head for the remainder of this little get-together. It was just one of those days, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. Like ants were crawling beneath the surface. There wouldn’t be enough alcohol or drugs in the physical kids' cottage to soothe his inner wounds.

The topic had already moved on to who was doing what, and before he knew it, everyone started splitting off and going their separate ways. He was left by himself, sitting in the cottage. Was his name even called out to go do something? He couldn’t remember.

Did they expect him just to sit this one out and continue self-medicating? Eliot would certainly argue he could multitask and do it all, like always. He rolled his eyes at his own inner argument and knocked back the last of his drink. He’d been nursing it the whole time they’d been sitting there.

Deciding he needed to move, Eliot wandered off to the kitchen to drop his cup off and look for Margo. Undoubtedly she’d have gone upstairs to fuck Josh, costume change, or both. He loved nothing more than to be third-wheeling all over that hot mess of a relationship.

He'd realized Margo smiled a lot more nowadays. How had he not noticed that before?

By the time he turned the corner, he spotted Quentin already in the kitchen, messing about in the cabinets and draws looking for something. Eliot gave him a funny look, but continued on into the kitchen, just a little more slowly to try and take a guess at what Quentin could be getting up to. He put his glass down into the sink, then in a graceful twist only he could do, turned to face Quentin, one arm leaning against the edge he dipped his head and rose an eyebrow.

Partially in a playful gesture but they both knew it was more than that. With Quentin, it was always so much more.

“You going to make me ask what’s going on?”

“Are you?”

The room became quiet. The retort had caught him off guard. Straight in for the kill, and yet, still as gentle as ever. Quentin continued to make tea, the odd look over his shoulder to make sure Eliot was still there.

Of course he was, Eliot would never leave while they bickered. He bounced on the heel of his foot and glanced up to the ceiling.

They hadn’t talked about a lot of things, not since Eliot was inhabited by a monster, not since Quentin had recovered from the injuries he’d sustained in the mirror realm. Things have been bad for a good stretch of time.

Different herbs were added to the pot. Once it started brewing from a quick gesture from Quentin's hands, the aroma of tea filled the air. Two mugs were filled and Quentin walked over with one to place on the counter beside Eliot.

He felt the pressure of an arm pressed into his and Quentin leaned against him.

The contact warm and familiar. Quentin glanced up to Eliot while sipping his tea. It was all surprisingly close but not entirely unwelcomed. He hated needing to get real, but he knew there was no getting around it this time.

Quentin was doing everything right.

“Out of all the fucked up shit we’ve been through. In that other timeline, you died. Like, you died… died? For real died. I did the whole nine yards widow-in-black grieving over it. I feel like I still am, but you’re here, and... it’s confusing.”

“Yeah.”

“So I guess my question is; how in the everloving fuck did you cope with it? When I ‘died’?”

Eliot searched his eyes, willing an answer that would solve this uncomfortable ache in his chest. He felt like he couldn’t eat or sleep properly while Quentin had been in the infirmary.

The worst part? Eliot couldn’t tell if it was trauma or something physical, from mental of seeing that alternate timeline of what could have happened, or from having an axe jabbed into him to get a psychotic god out. He’d felt pain in every sense of the word.

And yet… 

Quentin had already moved to lower his drink down on the counter. Eliot wondered if he’d fucked up by talking about it, trying to be braver and all, but Q hadn’t left his side just yet.

“I guess I kind of didn’t? I just… I lived with it. You were still High King of Fillory and I needed to go get another key. I knew I’d see you again. I held on to something. That kept me going.”

“Well then. That did fuck all to make any of this feel remotely better.”

“Let’s save the overthinking for the puzzle?”

That gave Eliot pause. Quentin would never act so callous, it was almost as if- he could swear he had said that exact same phrase about a million times in the past. The little shit even smiled after he’d uttered the phrase.

Eliot smiled back. So, he had to ask himself, what even was his next task? His mind spiralled like a cruel whirlpool, filling him up with undecided doubt. He really didn’t know what he wanted next. To not feel? His smile faltered and Quentin caught on far too quickly. Before he knew it, he watched as Q leaned forward, raising himself up to meet Eliot, planting a gentle kiss against his lips.

Softly. Simply. Slowly.

His world turned on a harder axis. They’d defied death more times than needed. Eliot leaned into it, promising himself he’d never pull back from Quentin again. He felt the ache widen in his chest.

It was Quentin that had tilted back to break their kiss. An almost apologetic look colouring his wordless face.

“I’m. I-”

Eliot’s hands reached up to wrap around and hold Quentin’s face. Willing himself to not shake sense back into his other half. Conversations were always messy and overrated, but this? It was genuine and pure. He’d been a moron to ever say no.

“Q, you are one of the rare good things to come into my life and make all this shit somehow a little less shitty. How about we both do each other a favour and hold this talk for some other time. Focus on the next task, yeah?”

Quentin all but deflated in his reaction. Must have thought Eliot was brushing past this conversation entirely again. He was, but not in the way Q was thinking. Eliot dipped down to chase his lips, pressing another wanted kiss against him until Quentin reciprocated back.

They inched in closer to one another’s bodies. Shy hands found a comfortable spot to stroke his body. Eliot smiled easily against his lips.

That was all the body language he needed to take the hint.

Urgent hands moved to stroke down the entirety of his friend’s body. Quentin kissed him harder when Eliot stopped at his slow rocking hips. As if he needed any more reassurances they still had the spark between them. His tongue pressed up against the others, a soft groan came into his mouth when he felt the friction of their bodies pressed against each other.

He slipped his hands down further to get a grip around Quentin's thighs. Bending just so, he casually lifted Q up onto the counter and positioning himself between his legs. In their frenzy, one of the mugs had been knocked into the sink with a sloshed clatter. The other narrowly missed their haphazard movements. Neither of them could focus while they continued their kiss.

Quentin finally pulled back with a soft gasp, flushed and trying his hardest not to laugh at the most inappropriate moment.

“Eliot, if anyone sees us…”

“They can join in? I don’t a flying talking pig's dick... but... _fine_. We won’t do _anything_.”

He saw the panic set in those honey brown eyes and he laughed. It felt almost sadistic to threaten like that, he knew he was being entirely sarcastic. A sweet little thing like Quentin wanted him and he was being far too obvious about it. Eliot hated how much he liked that look. The one which said he was needed. He rolled his eyes playfully, settling Quentin's worries before they fed off of his words.

“We’ll move this upstairs in a moment. I just don’t particularly want to move from here right this second. Should finish that other drink before we spill it.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Eliot smiled at the simplicity of the answer. Hand coming up off his thigh to stroke back some of his partner’s hair, his finger along his face until he was tucking back the strand behind his ear. Quentin was like that, easy to be around, it was effortless. Gave him his space, time and attention all in the same breath. How he got so lucky to have this in his life he didn’t know. 

Tilting around his lover’s body, searching for that mug and delaying the inevitable for the sole purpose of frustrating Quentin further. It worked as well as he’d hoped. As he leaned back to drink, he felt Q lean in and wrap himself around Eliot.

Nose nuzzling into the nook of his neck, Eliot gulped down his drink a little faster. He stopped at the halfway mark to offer the rest to Q, who by now was far too antsy to take the offer. Pouring the rest down the drain, Eliot gently placed the mug and moved back from between Q’s legs. Going for his hand he smiled warmly while urging the brunet off the counter and to guide him upstairs.

A warm hand holding his own, another jabbed into his lower back as playfully as can be. Eliot writhed and bounced away from it, as it nudged him further up the stairs. Eliot glanced back scoldingly. When he saw Quentin laugh and grin, he did too.

He’d missed that smile more than he could say. He stopped at the closed door, refusing to open as he turned to Quentin who in turn was already closing in on him.

“What you said earlier. I know I said we wouldn’t talk but… I never asked what you were holding on to?”

Quentin wrapped himself up deeply into Eliot’s chest, breathing in his scent, his hand blindly palming for the door to push them both inside. Eliot chuckled and wrapped his arms around him. From the muffled voice buried deep in Eliot’s chest, the door clicked open and they fell inside.

“I was holding on to the idea of this… of us.”


End file.
